(Written for the Sentinel)

It Is Well with the Child

I know not where my loved one may be lying,In field or forest, or by town or sea,Whether on earth or in the gray clouds flying—I only know he cannot come to me.But looking upward through the night of weepingI hear a voice call like a silver bell:"Love's stars are out, and God His watch is keeping,—All's well! All's well!"

I know not what the future may be sending,What little store of wisdom, wealth, or rest;So long to wait, the strife so never-ending,Wrong so enflamed, and right so sorely pressed.But looking onward through the night of sorrow,Still rings the music like a silver bell:"Love's stars are out; God governs the tomorrow,—All's well! All's well!"

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